


Hawaiian Accident

by littlemissvincentvega



Series: Reservoir Thots [65]
Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992), Reservoir Dogs (1992) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:00:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29929647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemissvincentvega/pseuds/littlemissvincentvega
Summary: 'Hi! I love your writing and how you manage to keep the characters realistic and believable. I would like an scenario in which Mr. Pink works with a reader who has the same terrible fashion sense as him (Hawaiian shirts 24/7) +bonus points if they arrive to a meeting with their shirts mixed up w/o noticing. Thank you and have a lovely day!!!' req by anon on tumblr <3
Relationships: Mr. Pink (Reservoir Dogs)/Reader, Mr. Pink (Reservoir Dogs)/You
Series: Reservoir Thots [65]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1315502





	Hawaiian Accident

**Author's Note:**

> cw: homophobic slurs, bad language

thank you!!! that means a lot babe 🥺💖 YES i love this request ahhh im so sorry it took me so long to get to! i’ve not really been writing lately but rn i have muse sooo here goes

i left it on a cliffhanger bc its funnier to me but yeah LMAO i hope its good enough babe!!! <3 also a bit of this is inspired by the office because i am a loser ok enjoy

_**content warning:** bad language, homophobic slurs_

* * *

“We look so cool,” you nod, a shit-eating grin plastered across your face. 

Pink returns the grin, hands on his hips-- you’re standing side-by-side admiring yourselves in the mirror. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

Dorks. Utter dorks. 

Two dorks that met in a thrift store shopping for those ugly Hawaiian shirts you wear pretty much every single day. Sometimes you even sleep in them (Pink’s, they’re bigger on you and comfier). You had approached him with a curious twinkle in your eye-- you’d frequented that very store for about year and spotted him once or twice. Pink was probably the only other person you’d seen there who actually bought the Hawaiian shirts. They were... a specific taste. Not many people liked them as much as you did. The man was a closed book at first (not much different to now, but that was Steve) but, after having a couple of coffee dates, he began to slowly show his feelings for you. 

You’ve been together a good year by now and, after struggling with money for most of your life, he decided to gently introduce you to a life of organised crime. Of course he had made sure you were absolutely certain you wanted this, and you were. It seemed exciting. Dangerous. Something new and different. “Honey, we can be _real_ partners in crime now,” you’d told him, grinning. That had forced a smile out of him.

The Cabots had welcomed you in with open arms-- Steve had told you he’d known them since he was a kid, and the way they talked gave that away. Joe seemed to care deeply about his employees despite his hard exterior, and Eddie was a great laugh-- an all-around genuine guy. 

Fast-forward a couple of months and you’re now considered one of the Reservoir Dogs-- that’s what you call yourselves, anyway. Joe had decided on the name. He’d also decided not to elaborate on why the fuck he chose that name, but it sounded cool to you. So you weren’t fussed. But back to the Dogs-- there’s you, Mr. Purple, Steve, Mr. Pink. And the others are simply known as Mr. White, Mr. Orange, Mr. Blue, Mr. Brown and Mr. Blonde. You don’t know their real names. Perhaps in time you’ll get to know them better, but for now it’s for your own protection (and theirs). 

\-----

“Alright, gentlemen - lady - jeweller’s on 27th St. Easy job. You listenin’?” 

A collective hum from everybody, and Joe’s expression hardened. “I said, _are you listenin’?”_

“Yeah.”

“Stop fidgeting, you asswipe,” you mutter, giving your boyfriend a glare, which he quickly returns. 

“Can it, you two,” Eddie hisses. 

“It’s this fucking stupid shirt, it’s too tight,” Pink scowls defensively. 

“Hey-- it ain’t my fault you’re too fat for your fuckin’ clothes.”

Blonde chuckles. “You’re one to fuckin’ talk, Eds. You, uh, have a pack’a donuts for your breakfast this mornin’?”

“I’m warning you, asshole.”

“What is it with you and those ugly fuckin’ shirts, anyway?” Blonde questions, that general smugness about his face.

“I like your shirt, man,” Brown objects, earning an eyeroll from your boyfriend.

“That’s just what I wanted to fuckin’ hear. Mr. Faggot over here complimenting my dress sense.”

“Don’t be fucking rude, you little asshole!” you scowl, leaning over to flick him in the cheek. “He’s just being nice!”

He just ignores you, continuing to fiddle with his buttons. “I don’t know why I bought this fuckin’ thing. The buttons are on the wrong fucking side.” Well, that was it. As soon as he’d uttered those words, White began howling with husky laughter, followed by everyone else (although Brown didn’t know exactly what he was laughing at). Even Joe was snickering. Yep, he’s wearing your fucking shirt. And you’re wearing his.

Your hand finds your face, and you let out a defeated sigh. “Oh, you _fucking idiot.”_


End file.
